


The Way Forever Sounds

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [32]
Category: Elite Wrestling Revolution, Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Pining, Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, You know what I mean, horrifically garbled spanish, i dunno, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, offensive depictions of racial stereotypes?, stealth angst, stealth romance, the luchador is more like a beloved character not a stereotype, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:39:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9313895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: Because the fighting is better than the silence.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello :)
> 
> Alright! Kevin was being a little bitch in this one, for the record. Didn't want to give me anything or make anything easy. Jerk. 
> 
> Not that Sami was much better. They both just wanted to angrily, passive aggressively slap at each other and moan endlessly about how not-upset-with-each-other they were. Children, I swear. I _will_ pull this car over.
> 
> Anywhoo, brace yourself for semi offensive, garbled Spanish. Mithen will be happy to see some bby!Generico in this one :)

Kevin slams his duffel down on the bench, ignoring the startled look he gets from Simon when he does so. Acutely aware of _those eyes_ burning holes in his back, he snatches the zipper open and begins rummaging around for his trusty wrist tape. Irritation begins to well when he fails to find it right away, making him grit his teeth against the surge of annoyance that is a complete over reaction to the situation.

- _oh really_ -

(fuck **you** )

(I **_know_ ** when I’m over reacting)

- _sure you do. totally, one-hundred percent **self aware**. Kevin Steen is **all** about that shit_ -

(shut the fuck up)

“Kevin, do you need-"

“ _No_ , I do **not** need **_anything_** , suck a dick."

Sami rears back, looking briefly (hilariously) affronted. Right on cue, the offense bleeds into that patented, befuddled puppy-dog like dejectedness. Kevin looks away as Sami's face scrunches up, first in puzzlement, then in sadness when his feeling get hurt. Kevin can practically feel the big, goopy, pitiful doe eyes watching him, can practically see without looking the way the corners of Sami's mouth turn downwards.

- _pathetic_ -

(that is one word for it)

- _got any others?_ -

(no)

- _then why did you even say anything, you fuck?_ -

(shut up)

“I'm just trying to help-" Sami says, and the little points of heat burning holes in Kevin's back are all at once _far_ **too much** for him to handle.

Kevin swings around, half tempted to just clock Sami right in his stupid goddamn mouth and be done with it. Instead, he opens his own mouth and spares a split second to hope that whatever comes out of his face hole isn't too **_humiliating_**.

“I don't need your help." Kevin states firmly, bringing a hand up and waving a finger in Sami's face for good measure, giving him a long look.

- _good. you **tell** him_ -

(shut up)

(still.)

(that was _fine_.)

(nothing **too** stupid in there)

“Also, stop fucking staring at me. It is creepy as shit." Kevin adds with a self satisfied nod, watching Sami go cross-eyed trying to follow his finger.

- _good fucking lord above_ -

(nah, shut it. it's **_fine_** )

( _this_ is fine. little fuck needs to be **told off** every once and a while)

Sami lets out a sharp sound of outrage, slamming his hands down on the bench beneath him. Kevin inhales, getting momentarily distracted by the way Sami's tights-

(balled up in one of his hands)

-slide partially out of the confines of Sami's fingers, dripping down across the bench and over the edge, dangerously close to the filthy floor.

- _the **fuck**?_ -

(better than focusing on anything **_else_** )

There’s _nothing_ else to focus on. Sami's sitting there, all **annoyed** and **_determined_ ** and _alight_ with the **glow** of **_anger_ ** and **_hurt_ ** and Kevin just kind of wants to meet those _hazel eyes_ , that sparkle with an **intense** -

“Take the tape and shut the hell up you pouty jackass!"

- _well_ -

(ow)

Kevin snaps a hand up, catching the roll of tape just after it bounces off his forehead and is sailing toward the ground.

(oh)

“Hey!" Kevin squints, staring at the roll for a moment before looking up, “This is _my_ tape!"

“Fine, take it if you must. I'm pretty sure I stole that out of a locker anyway." Sami say offhandedly, waving dismissively and easing up a bit, unclenching his fingers from around his tights and holding them up, given them a vigorous shake.

“You stole them out of **my** locker because this is **_my_ ** tape!" Kevin snarls, the shock bleeding into outrage.

Sami shrugs, like it's not a big deal. He shifts on the bench, away from Kevin, and grasps the hem of his t-shirt in both hands.

“I don’t really remember where exactly I got it." He says simply, like that explains fucking _anything_.

( **what** the _**fuck**_ )

“I don’t _care_ whether or not you **remember** where you got it from! It's **_mine_**! Don't **_touch_ ** my things." Kevin huffs, turning swiftly around and marching back to his bag, throwing the tape into the opening and resisting the urge to close the zipper on the strangely menacing object.

“Could you guys just-” Simon starts, exasperation on his face as he tries to interject some sanity into a situation he was clearly not prepared for.

- _stay the fuck out of this_ -

“Shut up!” Sami says, spinning around to give Simon a stern look, then immediately turning back to give Kevin a heated glare that is returned threefold.

(don‘t fucking _look_ at me like **that** )

(actually, don’t look at me _**period**_ )

- ** _it hurts_** -

“Don’t fucking mimic me, you goddamn stalker! It’s weird as shit.” Kevin huffs loudly, reaching out and shoving Sami roughly.

- _ **his skin** feels like_ -

Sami stomps a foot, poking an angry finger into Kevin chest with one hand and slapping Kevin’s violence away with the other.

The finger pressing into the center of Kevin‘s chest becomes a focal point, seemingly drawing all his attention to the small pinprick of _heat_.

“You copied me! And don’t tell me what to do!” Sami snaps, his voice harsh, even with the slight whine to it.

- _cry baby_ -

“You are such a child.” Kevin sneers with enough disdain to make Sami flinch back, his words absolutely dripping with contempt.

- ** _don't_** -

Sami seems to shake the rebuke off, scrunching his face up briefly before rearing back into Kevin's space with renewed vigor.

(when **_he_ ** gets this **_close_ ** I-)

“Oh that is rich coming from you of all people. I'm a child? Really? You are so much more of an immature asshole than I am, so don't even come at me with that kind of shit." Sami says vehemently, flattening his palm against Kevin's chest and shoving him firmly backwards.

- _it **burns**_ -

Sami's palm is **hot** against Kevin's skin. Kevin can **_feel_ ** the searing sensation even through his shirt.

For some reason, it makes Kevin's knees tremble.

- _fuck_ -

Kevin pulls himself up, curling his fingers into tight fists at his sides. He resists the strong urge to reach out and clock Sami right in his stupid ginger mouth.

“I'm not the one who monkeys around in a tube sock to the tune of a shitty, unoriginal one-word song in front of a bunch of drunks who can barely remember their own names." Kevin snaps, reluctantly reaching over and snatching the roll of tape back up out of his bag.

Sami's eyes rise up to meet Kevin's again. Kevin resists the urge to stick his tongue out in response to the incredulity plastered across Sami's face.

“You are such a dick. Why would you even say that kind of shit? I don't make fun of your over dramatic entrances, or your ugly ring attire, so why are you suddenly coming at me with personal bullshit?" Sami says, a touch of that so rarely heard malice in his voice. It's still mostly just achy _anger_ , but there is a definite hint of real **viciousness** in there, buried under layers of things that Kevin would rather **_not_ ** think about.

Kevin takes a moment to bask in the small victory, before he allows himself to process exactly what just came out of Sami's mouth.

“What? My entrances are _immaculate_ and- what the **fuck** problem do you have with the goddamn way I **_dress_ _?_** ” Kevin says, almost tearing the tape as he rapidly winds it around his wrist.

Sami blinks then rolls his eyes, returning his gaze back to Kevin to give him a long, pointed stare. “Your in-ring outfits look like the something your _grandmother_ picked out.”

Kevin throws his hands up in the air, dropping the tape and ignoring the way it just kind of dangles off his arm, swaying haphazardly in the air as he gestures wildly.

”Oh, so not only are you talking shit about my _gear_ , now you are **bashing** my fucking grandmother? **_Really_**? And I‘m the unreasonable one here?”

Sami shrugs, shooting Kevin one last eye roll before he returns his attention to his tights. “The only person calling you _unreasonable_ is your own damn self. No one else said **anything** like that.”

“Fuck you! You have the fashion sense of a gingerbread man and _your_ grandmother is a-"

“Can you two **_please_ ** just shut the fuck up already? Jesus christ."

Kevin snaps his mouth shut, his jaw making a loud cracking sound as he does so. Annoyed, but startled, he glares heatedly at Sami for a moment before turning to Martel and giving him the finger.

- _none of your damn business_ -

Sami lets out a strangled growl that just sort of reverberates around in the back of his throat for a heartbeat. Shaking his head, Sami shoots Kevin one last scathing look before turning away from him to pull restlessly at his cloths.

(oh please. fidgety busy work. idiot)

Kevin bites his lip, contemplating kicking up a fuss briefly before he clicks his tongue in exasperation and shuffles back a few steps. Refusing to look up anymore, even though he can practically feel Sami shuffling anxiously around like the twitchy ginger dumbass he is-

- _if **he** would just_ -

Kevin shakes his head, staring hard in concentration as he attempts to untangle the mess of tape stuck to itself and his arm. Martel shares a look with Excess, the two of them seeming to communicate silently before they too go wordlessly back to gearing up.

- _quiet_ -

(way **too** quiet)

"Hey, stop hogging. That‘s the only one I brought.”

Kevin doesn't look up from the tangle of tape. “Go to hell. It‘s my tape.”

Sami actually stomps his foot, like the petulant toddler he is. Kevin spares him a glance, looking briefly up from the mess on his skin.

( _when_ did the scrawny bastard cross the room?)

- _more importantly, **why** is he so **close?**_ -

“Don‘t fucking be like that, Kevin. We have to go soon and I _need_ -”

“Then you should have brought your own, instead of stealing mine.”

Sami leans down and grabs a handful of Kevin‘s shirt, giving him an unconvincing shake that Kevin swears will **roast** him **_alive_** , even through his clothes.

“I didn't steal your stupid fucking tape! I told you-”

Kevin makes a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat, reaching up and slapping Sami‘s hands away from his body.

(don‘t **touch** me)

“That is dumb.” Kevin growls, leaning back and crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "Your story is dumb and doesn't make any fucking _sense_ -”

“It is not-” Sami stammers, thrown off by the interruption.

“This is **_so_ ** dumb. **_You_ ** are so dumb.” Kevin reiterates, tossing his head back and giving Sami that infuriatingly smug look.

“Oh goddamn it. Really?” Kevin flips Excess off without turning around, uninterested in his insight into the situation.

(just shut your damn mouth and-)

“Hello friends! Are we ready to do battle-?"

- _oh fuck **off**_ -

“Yes we fucking are. Get up you bitchy, angsty assholes." Simon almost shouts, practically leaping to his feet-

(at almost the exact same time as Martel and Excess)

- _did they practice that shit?_ -

-and heading for the door and a very confused Franky. Franky turns, looking quizzically at Kevin, who just shrugs.

Throwing his towel over his shoulder, Kevin follows Simon to the door, trailing behind Excess. He vaguely registers Franky reaching out and throwing an arm around Sami, but he cant make out whatever it is that they are whispering to each other.

(doesn't matter)

- ** _forever_** -

(shut up)

“Whatever. Just don't fuck this up for me, alright?" Kevin directs the order at Simon and Sami, but doesn't wait for an answer, just shoulders his way out of the door and off into the hall, heading _determinedly_ for the **roar** he can already hear _**swelling** _ somewhere in the building.

* * *

Kevin shoulders his way past Simon, ignoring the **_warmth_ ** to his right, angrily brushing a stray tassel out of his face as he moves. He grasps the ropes with authority, squinting calculatingly across the ring at Excess. Excess crouches down, palms braced against his knees, eyes trained on Kevin, clearly prepared for battle.

- _hell yes_ -

( **finally** )

Kevin digs his fingers into the thickly coiled ring rope briefly before doubling over. Sliding a leg between the top and middle rope, Kevin prepares to enter the ring, ready to do battle.

(let’s **_do_ ** this)

- ** _need_** -

“Por favor amigo! El Generico numero uno!”

(you _cannot_ be **serious** )

- ** _brat_** -

Kevin pauses, halfway into the ring, closing his eyes against the urge to turn around an wallop the squirrelly piece of shit off the apron.

- _ **bullshit** of the **highest order**_ -

Kevin jerks himself back through the ropes at the first _touch_ of clumsy, grasping **warmth** on his biceps. He slams both boots back on the apron and turns, backing the scrawny jackass back into the turnbuckle. Kevin barely registers the way Simon actually hops around the post to the other side, grasping the ropes and leaning outward.

Presumably, so he can be as far away from them as possible, without actually leaving their corner.

(coward)

“We are not having this fucking _conversation_ , you jumped up little shit stain, I **swear** to **_fuck_** -"

“No! El Generico-"

Kevin reaches out and cuffs him, letting out a pent up growl.

(gonna _kill_ him)

- ** _need_** -

“I don’t give a _fuck_ what you are! You’ll just go out there and flop around like an **idiot** , like you **_always_ ** fucking do! I get goddamn tired of _watching_ that shit! Sit your ass out **here** and-”

Kevin vaguely expects a slap to the face, or at least a punch of some kind.

- _like he would ever dare_ -

It doesn’t come, instead the moron in front of him gives him soulful puppy dog eyes for a brief second, that is just long enough to cut off Kevin’s train of thought.

It is also long enough for the crafty bitch to get that fucking **gleam** in his eye.

- _fuck_ -

(oh you have _got_ to be **kidding** me)

“...and he’s **_gone_**.”

Kevin reaches up, pinching the bridge of his nose, the impending headache making his stomach churn. Simon is eyeing him oddly and Kevin would tell him off for staring at him, but he honestly doesn’t give a shit right now.

Ridiculous tights flash by in the corner of his eye and Kevin turns his glare to the ring, feeling a slight tinge of gratification as a masked idiot-

(who happens to _deserve_ everything that is currently happening to his stupid, pasty ass)

-goes hurling across the ring, limbs flailing wildly. He bounces off the ropes and slides to the mat like liquid foolishness, laying there like a dead fish before feebly rolling away just in time to avoid a vicious attack from Excess.

(well, karma is a **bitch** I guess)

- ** _want_** -

Kevin shakes it off, inhaling sharply and leaning over the top rope. The rope digs into his chest, the sensation unpleasant, though he ignores it in favor of watching the spindly body fly through the air towards him. His tag partner for the night flops against the turnbuckle in front of him, spring-boarding off of it, standing stock still for a moment before falling over, splatting on the mat like the poor excuse for a combatant that he is.

Their fingers come so _close_ to scraping by each other, **almost** lacing together as the idiot lurches forward, _**grasping** _ and Kevin _breaths_ in through the way his **skin** becomes engulfed in **_flames_ ** for a heartbeat.

Just one heartbeat though. Because in the next moment, Kevin is pulling his arm back, watching _that face_ crumple in disappointment, like it **always** does.

(always will)

- ** _forever_** -

**Author's Note:**

> Beware the drama lama. He brings much bitchy fighting and terrible, anticlimactic ending one-liners.
> 
> Hot tag denial is both my favorite type of tag team oriented drama, and my least favorite. Favorite because holy shit, the goddamn soap opera bullshit yo can milk out of just one is insane (see Dean and Seth (you know the one) for a decent, semi recent example of the over the top melodrama that can spawn from that shit) My least favorite because to be honest it's kind of over done, and sometimes not the best executed. Although, I suppose I should give a little more credit on that last point, given that I found depicting it a little rough. Ah well, at least with wrestling, in the words of the lovely Hero himself, when it's bad, it's at least funny. Most of the time.
> 
> This has been you weekly does of vitamin bullshit, hope you enjoyed and see you next week ^.^


End file.
